


Lady and the TWAMP

by sunkyGsus



Category: The College of William and Mary
Genre: Alma Mater Hail, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fursuits, Minor Character Death, Public Sex, Socialism, The Cult of Reveley, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 05:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10847559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkyGsus/pseuds/sunkyGsus
Summary: or, Swampy Sex-o Against Sodexo.A duel at dawn has some unexpected consequences.





	Lady and the TWAMP

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally the worst thing I have ever done and I hate myself more than you could ever dream of hating me
> 
> all participants (except Reveley) begrudgingly gave me approval to write this

Adam’s heart raced as he scanned the horizon. He’d never thought it would actually come to this – when Hannah had boldly issued the challenge to “FIGHT ME IRL”, he’d decided to call her bluff. Instead, she’d responded with an invitation to “meet me in the ruins of Millington at dawn u fuck”. He’d had little choice but to agree; the sacred Honor Code permitted fighting, but lying of any kind was unacceptable. Part of him wondered if she’d been kidding. A secret, deeper part of him hoped that she wasn’t.

The first watery, grold-colored rays of sunlight filtered through the darkness. The trees swayed in the light breeze, promising either 1693° summer heat or approximately 54 inches of rain. Adam swallowed the lump in his throat. If things turned ugly, what would happen to the loser, helpless and left for dead in the asbestos pits of Millington? He gripped his hammer and sickle a little tighter. At least he’d come prepared.

He heard the familiar crunch of gravel and spun around. Hannah stalked down the hillside like a warrior-chihuahua goddess of old, her trademark scowl firmly in place. He scanned her for weapons – aside from her weak-ass noodle arms, she was equipped only with two silver canisters bearing warning labels.

She met his gaze and smirked. “Two liters of sulfuric acid. Should be a fair fight.”

Adam shivered, grateful for the protection his fursuit provided. _Chem majors_ , he thought bitterly.

He cleared his throat, searching for a response. “Hey, I’m the moderator here.”

Hannah scoffed and took a step closer. “Then I’ll overthrow the state, duh.” She cocked her head, eyes narrowing. “Fursuit off. I refuse to deal with secondhand embarrassment right now.”

With a deep sigh of reluctance, Adam obeyed. He didn’t much like the thought of chemical damage, and he certainly couldn’t afford to replace his “pajamas”. He pulled at the zipper and let the garment fall to the ground, then stepped out of the furry pant-legs. He felt naked without the protection of his hood, his bare chest exposed like a college president’s racist views.

“Oh, thank fuck, you’re not naked,” Hannah muttered, rolling her eyes. Adam felt grateful once again for his Chewbacca boxer-briefs. They never failed to protect him from the dangers of women.

He shook his head slightly and brought his focus back to the matter at hand. “So is this a fight to the death, or what?”

Hannah made an exasperated sound. “I don’t know! I didn’t think this through! But I want to win this _and_ I want to die!”

He moved toward her – slowly, cautiously. “Well, we could have just had a meme war instead.”

Hannah considered the suggestion for a moment. “Yeah, I guess, but I already had to _walk_ all the way here, so this better not be for nothing.” She shifted her stance, and he couldn’t help but notice how the fabric of her Vera Bradley Katalina pink jumpsuit clung to her body underneath her stark white lab coat.

Her piercing gaze bore into him, but Adam found he couldn’t look away. Was he imagining this? They’d been verbally sparring for months now, but Adam treated their interaction like an introductory psychology textbook – he preferred not to read into it. Yet he struggled to ignore the passion in her eyes, burning like the heart of an elderly socialist Senator from Vermont.

“We could work out a diplomatic solution,” Adam offered breathlessly, his hammer and sickle falling to the ground.

“ _Fucking_ gov majors!” Hannah exclaimed, but she was laughing – smiling, even. Somehow she was even more intimidating like this. “And you didn’t even bring a gun to re-enact ‘Mmm, Whatcha Say’.”

Adam blushed slightly. “If I let you make memes with my face, will you put down the sulfuric acid?”

Hannah sighed again with all the dramatic flair she could muster. “ _Fine_.” She set the canisters down gently on the rocky ground. “But _you_ still need to be banned.”

Adam took a quick breath, readying himself to take the plunge into the murky Crim Dell waters of uncertainty. He reached for her arm and made eye contact once more. “That could be arranged.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a brief moment he thought he’d be banished to the purgatory of Gene Nichols obscurity – or worse, the Mason School of Business. And then she leaned towards him until her succulent lips touched his.

The swampy caverns of their mouths met. Hannah’s hand snaked through Adam’s hair, and his shock became pleasure. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, and nipped at the smooth, bare skin of her neck, almost as delicious as paper.

“I’m gonna deny your cult all night long,” Hannah gasped. Adam felt his proletariat class rising. They kissed again with the desperation of ill-prepared college students taking an organic chemistry final, pausing only to cast off articles of clothing.

Hannah pulled away, smiling wickedly, and seized Adam’s means of reproduction. Adam moaned like a historic Colonial Williamsburg ghost as Hannah expertly handled his Nimbus 2000. His fingers brushed her Sunken Gardens and began to redistribute her wealth.

Hannah shuddered slightly, her iron resolve crumbling like the walls of the building that once stood around them. She put a hand on Adam’s chest to guide him like a hapless lost freshman until he lied down on top of the discarded fursuit.

“Wait, what’s that?” Adam asked, eyes fixed on the large green-and-gold bird-thing somehow swooping through the air.

The bird’s head swiveled towards them. It winked one huge, lifeless eye and released a small, shiny object from its paw, then disappeared into the clouds.

The unidentified flying object landed beside them with a soft crinkling sound. Hannah picked it up, realization dawning on her face. “The Griffin gave us a Sam Jones to monitor your situation.” She tore open the wrapper and correctly applied the slippery Tribe Choice to Adam’s Sodexo corn dog.

Hannah loomed over him, descending slow and steady like a GPA. Both felt the moment of their joining, Craisins meeting raisins with an illicit, exhilarating thrill.

They began to move together, first with the awkward rhythm of white TWAMPs at a frat party, then with more speed, their aggressive negotiations intensifying.

“Ban me harder!” Adam cried, as the swift hammer of justice came down mercilessly on his fuckery.

“Alma mater, _hail_ ,” Hannah moaned, consumed like a Marketplace Chicky-Chicky Nug Nug by her passion.

The sound of heavy footsteps racing down the slope of the hell-pit interrupted the dank couple. A tall, pasty figure stood before them, his wrinkled face contrasting sharply with his crisply tailored suit.

“What are you doing, you motherfuckers?” President W. Taylor Reveley III shouted. And then he died.

Hannah and Adam exchanged a brief look and then resumed their previous activity. And the thunder of their coitus was heard.


End file.
